


Family Traits

by joufancyhuh



Series: The Pigeon & The Prince [1]
Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Family Week 2018, Gen, Parents
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-11
Updated: 2018-05-11
Packaged: 2019-05-05 05:09:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14610066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/joufancyhuh/pseuds/joufancyhuh
Summary: Carver & Bethany run home with a story to tell about their older sister.





	Family Traits

**Author's Note:**

> Family Week: Fathers/Mothers
> 
> This was supposed to be short, I whisper into the wind.

Carver bursts through the kitchen door with Bethany trailing not far behind, their faces red with brows sweaty from their dash into the house. Malcolm and Leandra catch each other’s gaze over the stew she makes, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth while she rolls her eyes.

Carver tugs on Leandra’s skirts as he bounces up and down, radiating excitement that his sibling shares. “Mama, Mama,” they chirp like birds, shoving one another aside to gain their mother’s attention. Neither pay Malcolm any mind, but he works most days in the stables, only seeing his family at supper and then tucking them into bed. The blame lies on him for their reluctance to share their lives with him, so he sits in his chair and eavesdrops onto the conversation.

Leandra pauses in her stirring to pat Carver’s shaggy head of hair before moving onto Bethany’s orderly ponytail. They still under the pat, though the energy around them buzzes heavy. Bethany goes first. “Mama, Kal-”

“No fair, I want to tell it,” Carver snaps, hitting Bethany’s arm while the young girl shrinks into Leandra.

Their mother stoops to separate the two while Malcolm notes the absence of the eldest child, though it doesn’t strike him as strange. Kalea enjoyed time away from the twins, choosing to play in the nearby creek when she knew they weren’t allowed to go down there. It sounded as though that might be the case, another tattle from the twins about how unfair Kalea was.

Carver starts his story again once Leandra got them far enough apart. “The village kids, they were picking on Beth again, and Kal stood up to them again, and-”

“They were picking on you, too,” Bethany cuts back in, sticking her tongue out in Carver’s direction.

He reaches out to swat at her, and Leandra shoots Malcolm a come-help-me-with-your-children look that forces him to stand up. Both children respond by stopping, staring at their father’s tower over them. He scoops up Carver, who kicks his feet in the air to fight the hold.

“Put me down, Papa! I’m not done telling the story!”

“I know, son.” Malcolm sits the boy in his still-warm chair and kneels in front of him so that the two men are eye-level. “Why were the villagers picking on you?”

“They said we were trash people,” Bethany says, her voice soft as she clung to Leandra. Malcolm turns his head to peer over at the two of them. “They threw bad food at us and told us to eat it. Said their papas told them we didn’t have food.”

Leandra’s face burns with rage, her cheeks aflame as her lips pinch together. The comments sting, especially when the two of them did all they could to provide. Sure, coin grew sparse, and sometimes they went without, but they managed.

“We have food, don’t we, Mama?” Bethany glances up at her mother, which calmed some of the anger in Leandra. She forces an appeasing smile, musing up the girl’s hair. Malcolm thinks he spots her other hand shake, which she hides under her skirts.

“Don’t believe everything you hear, Bethany dear. Of course we have food. I’m not stirring this pot just for fun you know.”

Carver tugs on Malcolm’s sleeve. “But Papa, that’s not the important part!”

Malcolm shifts his attention back over to the antsy boy who squirms in his chair. “It’s not?”

“No! It’s Kal! I’ve never seen Kal get so angry before, Papa.”

Malcolm’s breath catches, as though he knows what comes next. And he does. Carver opens his mouth and claps his hands together and jumps to his feet. “Kal got so angry that she breathed fire at them! Like a real life dragon!”

And Malcolm knows that this isn’t one of their games of pretend. He rises, spine rigid while he struggles to process the information and make a decision about what to do next. He and Leandra talked about this as a possibility for one of the children, but Maker, Kalea’s only twelve. She’s too young, the poor girl. He needs to find her.

“Where is she?”

Bethany chimes in with some slight hesitation to her voice. “She ran toward the river. Papa… is Kal in trouble? Did she do something wrong?”

He forces a smile, one that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “No, Beth, Lea’s not in trouble. I just need to find her.”

Leandra’s once red face gives off the appearance of a sheet, but she nods her head, recognizing her own plan of action for them. She stands after prying Bethany out of her arms. “Carver, Bethany, remember those moving drills we practice?”

Carver groans, which earns him a pointed look from Leandra. “Now, young man.”

After the twins shuffle out of the kitchen, Leandra draws to Malcolm’ side, her hand skating up his bicep as she presses a kiss into his shoulder, resting her forehead against him. “Mal, I’m scared.”

“I know, Lee. Me, too.” He sighs, placing his own hand over hers. “But we knew this day might come. We knew this would be a possibility with one of them.”

“But so soon?”

“There was never going to be a good time.” He shuts his eyes, lingering in their last peaceful moment for a time. “I’ll bring her back. I promise.”

“Stay safe,” she whispers as she steps back, allowing him to make for the door. “The both of you.”

* * *

She’s easy enough to find, half the forest burnt around her in a trail that leads him to where she stands in the middle of the creek, her skirts hiked up to her knees, hands out in a warding gesture. “Stay back, Papa,” Kalea warns. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t,” he says with confidence, because he knows he can defend himself, because his daughter is safe and with all the terror and uncertainty in this moment, he’s hesitant to admit that he’s a little proud of the power that stretches out from her, to cause this much damage.

“I’m not leaving.” Her voice wavers, sobs threatening to break through the barrier she shields herself behind.

“Lea, we need to go.”

And she breaks, tears cutting into her pink cheeks as a spurt of fire floods outward from her; he jumps back in time to avoid her. “Do you think I’m stupid? I know what this means, what I am.”

He tries to reason with her again. “You’re Kalea Hawke. You’re my _daughter_.”

“Is that what you’re going to tell the Templars when you turn me in? I’m not going in the Circle, Papa. I don’t want to get trapped there and never see you and Mama and the twins again.” She crouches down, hugging her knees while her skirts skim the water. “If they want me, they’re going to have to fight to get at me.”

Sorrow weighs down his chest, but with it, a swell of pride. She’s a fighter, like him, like her mother, and it gives him some consolation to discover this about her, that she chooses the life he picked, freedom for the both of them. But then he recalls how much he let her down, how his own flesh and blood would believe that he would hand her over to the Templars.

There was never a good time to tell her about his magic, the only time he came close right before Leandra discovered she was pregnant with the twins. Young children couldn’t keep secrets, and if Kalea knew, the other two would know as well. But he hates himself for it, that Kalea feels as though she’s going through this alone.

Another burst of flame flies toward him, but instead of dodging, he sweeps his hand in front of him, dousing it with water. She stares, wide-eyed, mouth left hanging open at his display. It feels right for her to know after all these years of hiding it. “Lea, try to regain control your emotions. Unbound magic such as yours is linked to strong emotions.”

“You-you’re a-you’re an apostate?” She straightens, rising back into a standing position. “You have magic?” Her flames flicker before spiking once more. “Is Mama? The twins? What else have you kept from me?”

He wards off the fire, casting a shield around her to keep her energy contained. “Focus on your breathing, Kalea. In 1, 2, 3, and out 1, 2, 3.” He repeats himself over her yelling, and again when she goes to speak up. He waits until the magic beneath the shield quells, her eyes closed in her breathing meditation when he releases his grasp.

“We need to leave. The village most likely contacted the nearest Chantry.” He holds out his hand in her direction. “Let’s go home, Lea.”

With slow, uneven movements, she drags herself out of the creek and takes his hand.


End file.
